


Hometown Welcome

by RosieTheRo



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Monster Boys, Monstertalia, dullahan!France, mild body horror, monster au, wendigo!Canada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-08 22:47:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6877954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosieTheRo/pseuds/RosieTheRo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matthew doesn’t want to ruin Francis’s fun visiting his hometown, so he tries to keep his mouth shut. It’s hard though, when he’s never felt more out of place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hometown Welcome

**Author's Note:**

> This is another one that comes with some art:  
> http://artofthero.tumblr.com/post/144124265693

It was times like these that Matthew really wished that he wasn't so tall. And that he didn't have antlers. And that he didn't look like a walking corpse. In general, he just wished he didn't stick out so drastically in a crowd.

Francis had assured him that he wouldn't stick out, and no one would stare, and it wouldn't matter if they did anyway.

Francis was either lying through his teeth, or he genuinely didn't notice the things that Matthew did.

Which, to be fair, was plausible. Centuries ago, Matthew's ancestors were top predators, each and every sense perfectly attuned to finding prey. Even though they had become civilized by now, just like other monsters, and just like humans for that matter, Matthew still had his ancestors' sharp senses, and could easily pick up on things others could not.

He could distinctly hear people talking about him, their voices hushed, assuming he was too far away to notice. He could see things in his periphery that others would miss, such as disapproving looks sent his way, or people darting sharply to the side when he passed. He could even tell when they were nervous or scared of him, hearing heartbeats speed up or breathing get heavier. Something his ancestors probably would have reveled in, but it just made Matthew feel even more self-conscious. 

He'd been dealing with it a lot more than usual lately, too. Francis had taken him to his hometown for the weekend, and was happily showing him around the small town, pointing out all the places he'd played as a child, where he'd gone to school, his favorite old hang-outs, the house he grew up in, all that wonderfully nostalgic stuff. Matthew kept up with his boyfriend, happy to see him so excited, but apprehension still plagued at the back of his mind.

Ever since entering the town, Matthew had noticed that the population was overwhelmingly human. That didn't automatically make him feel frightened, but it did set his nerves on edge a bit. He knew he must have been a bit of a shock to some of these people, many of whom had probably never seen a monster in person in their life. Even if they had, they may not have even known it.

That certainly could have been the case with Francis, who had kept an, admittedly stylish, scarf on the entire time he'd been in his hometown. The only times he'd taken it off were at the hotel when no one else but Matthew was around, and he'd leave his head on the bed so they could chat while his body was in the kitchenette preparing breakfast. Looking at how the locals interacted with him, Matthew doubted any of them realized they were speaking to a dullahan, considering they weren't giving Francis the same wide-eyed and nervous looks Matthew had been receiving since they'd arrived.

It frustrated him, but Matthew kept his mouth shut and swallowed his complaints. Francis was clearly having the time of his life being back home, and he couldn't bring himself to ruin his boyfriend's joy, no matter how uneasy he felt. He'd take a deep breath, and remind himself this was only for the weekend, and soon they'd be back at their university, where human and monster students mingled almost seamlessly, and he wouldn't have to be unwillingly stuck as the center of attention anymore.

Just a few more hours, he was telling himself as Francis led him towards his favorite café for drinks. They were getting the bus home that evening, and Matthew tried not to show how relieved he was at that. Instead, he tried to focus on the hanging flower pots that decorated the outside of the café. Tall as he was, he could easily peer over the edges of them, and smiled to himself when he saw a family of wrens that had made their home among the petunias.

"What do you think, is this good?"

Matthew glanced over to Francis, who was standing by a small table, holding out a wireframe chair expectantly.

"It's great," Matthew smiled, thankful that Francis had decided to sit outside. He wasn't sure his antlers would fit through the café's narrow door.

He took the seat Francis had pulled out for him, scooting forward a little awkwardly as he tried to arrange his long legs under the small table. Francis sat opposite him, smiling the same he had been all day, and Matthew smiled back.

"What _is_ that?"

A hushed whisper reached his sensitive ears, and his stomach lurched uncomfortably. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a pair of teenagers a couple tables over, leaning in close. They kept sending him sidelong glances and frowning.

Quickly, he looked down at his menu, long hair hiding his skull-like face, and tried to convince himself they weren't talking about him.

"So, uhm, what do you recommend?" he asked, hoping Francis hadn't noticed his sudden unease.

"Well the coffee is excellent, of course," Francis mused. "I wouldn't have brought you here if it wasn't..."

"I think that's a wendigo."

"Oh God, don't they _eat_ people?!"

Matthew felt the back of his neck turn hot, and tried very hard to focus on his boyfriend. 

"They have a lot of different teas too. Plus fruit juice, mixed sodas..." Francis was saying, studying the menu with a thoughtful look on his face. He glanced up, catching Matthew's troubled expression before he had time to properly cover it.

His smile slipped, his brows furrowing in concern. "Dear, is something wrong?"

Matthew swallowed a lump in his throat and smiled as best he could. "Yeah, I'm just fine," he lied, hoping Francis would buy it. This was supposed to be his special weekend back home, Matthew wasn't going to ruin it for him.

Francis looked like he was going to press the issue, but then the waitress arrived. She was friendly at least, Matthew was glad to see, bubbly and cheerful and more than happy to give recommendations on which tea Matthew might like.

In the end, he decided on a white jasmine tea with mint and Francis got _café au lait._ As the waitress left and Matthew turned back to his boyfriend, he found him still wearing that same concerned expression.

"Matthew, are you sure you're alright?"

Matthew looked at his hands, long fingers fidgeting with the wire mesh table top.

"Not... really, no," he admitted, bony shoulders hunching up as he tried to make his tall frame somehow smaller. 

Francis reached across the table and gently took his hand, stroking a thumb across his knuckles. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Matthew swallowed again, shifting in his seat. "I feel... really exposed here. Like, everyone's staring at me, and they're all scared of me. At school, there's a dozen other monsters around at any given time, and everyone's used to it, but here... It's like I'm in a spotlight, and I can't get out of it. I get that most of these people have probably never seen a monster before, but, I wish they wouldn't stare..."

He slid down in his seat, avoiding Francis's eyes.

"I'm really, really sorry," he mumbled, face feeling hot. "I know you've been wanting to come back here for ages, and you must be so happy to be home again. I-I don't want to mess that up for you, so I didn't want to say anything..."

"Matthew."

At the sound of his name, spoken gently and adoringly, he glanced up. Francis was smiling kindly at him, still holding onto his bony hand.

"Darling, please do not feel guilty for this. I understand how you feel, and I'm sorry for putting you in such a position." He stroked Matthew's knuckles and squeezed his long fingers. "But, you know, you aren't the only monster here, right? I've been with you the whole weekend, you're not alone."

It was supposed to be comforting, Matthew was sure, but he felt anger flare inside of him instead. 

"Francis, you've been wearing that scarf all weekend," he said, keeping his voice down despite his anger. He didn't want to attract more attention after all. "How's anyone else even supposed to _know_ you're a monster?"

Francis's comforting smile slipped.

The guilt hit Matthew first, and he pulled his hand away, dipping his head. "I-I'm sorry, Francis, I shouldn't take this out on you, it's not fair..."

"No. No, you're right," Francis said, sounding like he'd just realized something very important. "I... Oh, Matthew, I am so sorry."

He had his hands clasped over his mouth when Matthew looked up, his brows furrowed and expression distressed. He laughed as he pulled his hands away, but the sound and his smile were sad as he met Matthew's eyes. "I've been rather a coward and a hypocrite, haven't I?"

Matthew fiddled with a stray napkin. "Maybe a little bit," he mumbled.

The waitress returned, not noticing the heavy air that now hung around the table as she gave them their drinks. Francis masked his upset expression long enough to thank her and pay, but as soon as she'd left, he looked more troubled than ever.

Feeling uneasy, Matthew took a long drink from his tea. It was too hot and burned his tongue, but he had no idea what to say now. On the one hand, he did hate to see Francis looking so upset. But on the other, he was legitimately annoyed by his behavior this weekend. 

Before he could decide what to say, Francis’s hand landed on his again.

"Matthew... I am so, so sorry," Francis said, voice soft and more earnest than Matthew had ever heard it. "I didn't realize anything was wrong, and I should have." He looked up, expression heavy and guilty. "I didn’t realize what I was doing wrong. Can you forgive me?"

Matthew blinked, surprised by how serious he was being. "Francis... I'm not asking you to be a mind-reader here, alright?" He leaned forward, holding Francis's hand in both of his, long, bony fingers gently squeezing. "It's okay, it's not that big a deal-"

"Of course it is!" Francis said, his voice hushed but forceful. "I've been blending in perfectly and you've been left all alone in the open! I know I said people wouldn't stare, but God, I didn't realize - I grew up here and no one ever singled me out, but I _always_ had my neck covered-!"

"Francis!"

He started, blinking up at Matthew.

"I'm not just being polite," Matthew said gently, cupping Francis's cheek in one hand. "It's really okay. I know I snapped, and I'm sorry, but I'm not mad at you. Thank you for apologizing, really, but I was more angry at the situation than anything. I wasn't mad that you were hiding, I was mad that I _couldn't_ hide. Does... does that make sense?"

Francis chuckled softly taking Matthew's hand in both of his own and turning to kiss his palm. "I think I see what you're saying, yes."

He stroked Matthew's knuckles, both of them quiet for a moment. 

"I, uh, didn't mean to give you a complete identity crisis today," Matthew said, abashed. "Sorry about that."

Francis laughed out loud, beaming up at him. "No, no, don't apologize for that. You opened my eyes to something I'd never realized before, and I'm grateful. In fact..."

He raised his hands, grabbing one end of his scarf in each and starting to unwrap it. "I know I can't make this all right, but I'll do what I can."

Matthew's eyes widened. "You don't have to do that!" he said quickly. "Really. I don't want to make you go through this crap too."

Still holding his scarf, Francis looked at him quizzically, eyebrow raised. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Matthew nodded. "Honestly, I'd just feel bad now if you felt obligated to make yourself stick out too. Besides, you still need to drink your coffee, right?"

He offered a small smile, and Francis returned it was a sigh.

"If you're sure."

"I am sure."

"Oh, darling," Francis sighed, sounding equal parts forlorn and love-struck. He took Matthew's hand in his again, kissing his knuckles. "You are too good to me, do you know that?"

"I'm really not."

"Oh yes, you are," Francis cooed, kissing Matthew's wrist and up the inside of his arm. "A saint among monsters, my dearest Matthew."

His face turning hot, Matthew half-heartedly tried to pull his hand away. "Francis, come on..."

"No, I'm serious!" Francis pressed, leaning across the table to hold Matthew's face in his hands, stroking his hollow cheeks. "You are the kindest, sweetest, most beautiful person I know, and I am reminded every day how lucky I am to have you."

Matthew snorted, sardonically. "'Beautiful,' eh?"

"Oh, absolutely!" Francis gushed, eyes sparkling. "Such grace in the way you move, your touch so gentle. And do you have any idea how lovely your hair is?" He moved his hands up, weaving his fingers into Matthew's soft, strawberry blond locks. "I _wish_ this was my natural color! Oh, and these antlers, like a proud stag, you look like a king!"

He was practically standing upright as he leaned across the table now, and Matthew had practically melted into his chair from embarrassment.

"Francis, oh my God..." he mumbled, his flustered smile and red face hidden behind his hands. 

"And so humble!" Francis added. "Sweet and generous, so kind and so wonderful... Beautiful inside and out!"

Matthew peered up over his fingers, trying hard not to smirk. "You're exaggerating."

"Not in the slightest," Francis beamed, gently pulling Matthew's head up and kissing him on the mouth.

Matthew caved with a happy little noise, humming against Francis's lips and leaning forward to kiss him back, long fingers curling in his soft, blond hair.

He let out a muffled laugh, about to pull back and make some comment about how Francis had perfectly lovely hair already, but something reached his ears.

"Oh, _gross_ , how can he stand to kiss him?!"

"Kiss him? How can he even _touch_ him, he looks like he's been dead for a week!"

Matthew pulled back sharply, stomach churning and heart thudding in his chest. The cheerful bubble in his chest had burst, replaced by a heavy uneasiness in the pit of his stomach.

His hands started trembling, and he jumped violently when Francis spoke to him.

"Matthew? Darling, are you alright?"

He looked up at Francis, seeing his kind blue eyes searching his face, filled with concern. 

"What kind of sick-ass fetishes do you have to have to date something like that anyway?"

"It's pity-dating if you ask me. No way he actually wants to bang him."

"I have to go," Matthew said quickly, nearly toppling his seat over as he stood up and walked hastily away from the café, his shoulders hunched and head low, like he was trying to shrink from sight.

"Matthew-!"

He ignored Francis's call, keeping his head down.

 _Somewhere safe, somewhere quiet,_ he thought to himself, eyes darting desperately around for some haven from the open street. He noticed more eyes following him, heard more whispers as they passed, and sped up his pace, hands curled into fists in his pockets to keep them from shaking. 

He noticed a small alley way to his right and darted inside. It was empty, with a door leading into one of the buildings that looked old and unused. Matthew sat heavily on the small concrete stoop in front of it, long legs bent up in front of him. He hugged his legs tight and buried his face in his arms, struggling to steady his breathing.

 _Gross,_ he thought, the word intruding itself into his head without welcome. _Gross and pitiable and unlovable…_

He jumped when he heard footsteps, looking up with a start to see Francis round the corner of the alley way. Well, most of Francis anyways; his scarf hung loose over his shoulders and his head was gone, leaving a black void in his neck. Despite his current lack of eyes, ears, and a brain, he seemed to find Matthew easily, sensing him in that way that Matthew never quite understood and Francis could never quite explain. Something about navigating through highly sensitive touch and some sixth sense that didn't translate well into words, like psychic echolocation.

Whatever his means of getting around were, he ran right to Matthew, reaching out and wrapping his arms around his bony shoulders. Matthew suppressed a sniffle, tensing up at Francis's hand cupped the back of his head, nudging him down to rest against his shoulder. 

"M'sorry," he sniffed, stomach churning with guilt. "I didn't want to ruin today, I know how much you-"

He was cut off when Francis firmly, but not roughly, placed a finger over his mouth, holding it there until Matthew went silent. 

His hand moved to cup Matthew's hollow cheek in his hand, stroking his grey skin with his thumb. He gestured quickly with his other hand, a series of signs that Matthew recognized easily. 

He hiccupped and laughed softly. It was one of the phrases Francis used the most when he was separate from his head, probably one of the most important ones to him too. It was certainly what Matthew needed to hear right then.

"I love you, too," he said, smiling when Francis embraced him again, stroking his back gently. 

"I really am sorry," he mumbled, minding his claws as he wrapped his thin arms around Francis, hugging him tight. "This weekend was supposed to be special and..."

He trailed off and Francis leaned back slightly. He pressed two fingers against Matthew's lips and held them there, Matthew smiling again at his improvised kiss.

“I know, I know,” he sighed. “I need to stop apologizing…”

Francis gestured again, and Matthew nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I’ll be okay.”

He laughed softly as Francis gave him another tight squeeze, patting his back gently. 

“Uhm, by the way,” he asked, pulling back and glancing down at Francis. “Where’s your head?”

Francis’s shoulders lifted up and down slightly, as if he were sighing. He gestured Matthew to stand up, which he did, letting Francis take his hand and lead him out of the small alley. 

As they headed back towards the café, he began to hear something over the general murmur of chatting voices. It sounded like someone was yelling. Actually, it sounded like _Francis_ was yelling. Barely craning his neck, Matthew peered over the small crowd outside, and his eyes widened.

Francis’s head was sitting on the table of the two gossiping teens, his expression livid, giving quite an earful to the stunned pair.

“-something so judgmental and ignorant in my own hometown!” he was saying, face turning red. “I cannot _stand_ to think the people here are capable of such close-mindedness!”

Francis’s body let go of Matthew’s hand, weaving through the small crowd that was now standing and looking curiously towards the commotion. 

“The next time you consider saying such things, you would be better to keep your mouths shut!” 

He scooped his head up off the table and placed it forcefully back on his neck. Then, he spun on his heel, walked back out of the parting crowd and caught Matthew’s arm with his elbow, leading him away from the café with a tight, irritated air hanging about him.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, flinging his scarf around his neck and securing his head in place. “I am actually amazed that they thought those things were okay to say…”

“You heard them?” Matthew asked.

Francis huffed. “They said it to my face, after you left,” he explained. “I was going to follow you, but one of them asked if we were actually together. When I said ‘of course,’ they asked how someone ‘normal’ like me could date ‘something like that.’” He was nearly fuming again, and Matthew saw his hands curling into fists. 

“So, by then, I was as furious at them as I was concerned about you.” He sighed, and the anger ebbed from his face as he looked up at Matthew with a small, wry smile. “So, I suppose it’s good that I can split up, no?” 

“Yeah, that’s lucky,” Matthew laughed softly. “And, thank you, really, for standing up like that. It was… really cathartic to watch.”

Francis laughed too, and began to slow down, aiming for a bench facing the road. “Well… I am glad I could do that much at least.”

They sat side-by-side on the bench, Francis leaning to rest on Matthew’s shoulder.

“I am sorry, dear,” he sighed. “For a lot of things that happened today.”

“You couldn’t have known this was going to happen,” Matthew said.

“Still…” Francis mused. “It’s my hometown. I should have known how people were really going to react to you. I thought I did, because I knew how they always reacted to me, but of course… my experiences were slightly skewed.”

Matthew slipped his arm out of Francis’s grip, wrapping it around his shoulders and bringing him closer. 

"On the bright side, we hit a hurdle and got over it in one piece,” he said, bending and kissing the top of Francis’s head. “Plus I got to watch you give the best verbal beat-down I’ve ever seen.”

Francis chuckled, tipping his head up to catch Matthew’s mouth. “Optimistic,” he said with a smile. “Just one more wonderful thing about you, darling.”

“I try to be,” Matthew smiled. “I’m just sorry you didn’t get to drink your coffee.”

Francis waved him off. “Ah, never mind that, there’s plenty of coffee in the world.”

“I’ll pay for your next one though, alright?” Matthew offered. 

“Oh, you are too sweet.”

Francis kissed him again, then leaned into him and looked out across the street.

“We have a few more hours before the bus leaves,” he mused. “Do you want to do anything else? Or just rest at the hotel? I’m fine either way.”

Matthew shrugged. “I don’t want to just do nothing, but I don’t know if I want to be out in the open much either. Any idea where we could go with a bit more privacy?”

Francis hummed. “There’s a small park downtown, it’s got a few secluded spots. I knew a lot of people when I was younger who’d get caught there after dark, looking for some alone time with a special someone.”

Matthew laughed softly. “Were any of these ‘people’ you, by chance?” he asked wryly.

Francis scoffed. “No, of course not! I didn’t get caught.”

Matthew laughed again, standing up. “Well, try not to get too nostalgic, alright? You’ve got ‘someone special’ right here and now.”

“Oh, I am well aware of that,” Francis cooed, standing on tip-toes and just barely reaching Matthew’s collar-bone to kiss it. “Hmm, hang on.”

Surprised, Matthew watched Francis unravel his scarf and gently pluck his head off, holding it up closer to Matthew’s height. 

Out of the corners of his eyes, he saw some people stop and double-take. He heard some soft whispers, and some surprised noises, pointing out the eight-foot tall, antlered creature and the young man holding his own head in his hands.

He saw and he heard this, and he felt the familiar lurch in his stomach that came from being at the center of attention. But, he smiled anyway, and kept his eyes on Francis, delicately taking his head in his bony hands and lifting it up to kiss him properly. He felt Francis’s arms wrap around his middle, hugging him snugly.

“To the park?” Francis asked when Matthew pulled back.

“Lead the way,” he replied happily, gently placing Francis’s head back onto his neck.

Francis took his hand again, tossing his scarf over his shoulder with the other. “I think you’ll like it, there’s always birds in the pond. Actually, the weather seems nice enough that there may be an ice cream stand there by now, we should get some. My treat, of course.”

Matthew just hummed, letting Francis talk and listening passively. He smiled down at Francis, whose eyes were shining with nostalgia, his smooth voice describing happy memories from the park. The scarf hung fairly loose around his neck now, only half-covering the seam where his head detached from his neck. 

Matthew could still feel eyes on him and hear voices following him, but it felt just a little bit easier to deal with now.

He squeezed Francis’s hand, and his chest felt warm when he squeezed back.


End file.
